46. Epilogue
FORTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
Avery
Sixteen months later
I stretch my arms above my head and smile at the sun seeping in through the curtains of my bedroom. It’s quiet and still, and I can tell I’m home alone.
I roll over and see a note stuck to the pillow on Reid’s side of the bed. I grab it and smile at his handwriting.
Morning, sunshine.
I’m heading to the office early to do some work.
Can’t wait to see you later.
Call me when you wake up.
Love you.
-R
I clutch it to my chest and sigh, still feeling like I’m living in some dream world even after a year and a half of dating.
It almost seems like a lifetime has passed with all the adventures we’ve had. With the trips we’ve taken and the work we’ve done.
A whole NFL season has passed, and even though my Thunderhawks gave the Titans run for their money in the playoffs again last year, Reid has another Super Bowl ring to add to the collection.
Sometimes he wears it to piss me off.
I throw back the covers and pop out of bed, a spring to my step as I walk to the kitchen and smell fresh coffee. I open the cabinet above the sink to pull out a mug and a rubber duck tumbles onto my head.
“What the hell?”
I pick it up off the counter and examine it, laughing when I realize it’s the same kind Reid hid in my office last year.
This time, there isn’t a number on the bottom, just a single question mark.
I take a picture and send him a text message.
Me
Didn’t think I would be assaulted by rubber ducks first thing in the morning, but here we are.
What does the question mark mean? Am I missing something?
My phone rings, and I smile at the image of Reid that pops up on my screen. It’s a photo I snapped of him two months ago during our trip to London. His eyes are half closed. His glasses are crooked on his face, but his grin is bright enough to light up an entire room.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Hey.” I hear the jangle of his keys as he enters his office. “Are you up?”
“Yeah.” I yawn and pour myself a cup of coffee. “When did you leave?”
“An hour ago. I needed Dallas to help me with something, so I got to the field early. These one p.m. start times are fucking brutal,” he says. “There’s too much to do before kickoff.”
“What are you filming? And can I steal the idea?”
“No, you cannot. I know you have something original up your sleeve, Sinclair. You’re not the back-to-back Social Media Account of the Year because of my ideas.”
“True. Man, I forgot how good it feels to win against you,” I say.
Reid laughs, and I hear the roll of his chair. His computer powering on and the eyeglasses he’s setting down on his desk, right next to the framed photo of us.
I know all of his idiosyncrasies by heart. The routines he likes and the order he has to do things in. Our lives have blended together so seamlessly, it feels like I’m right next to him, watching him run a hand through his hair and toss a Rubik’s cube in the air.
A wave of love hits me.
It’s there during all the big moments, a large swell that rises when he kisses me. When he fucks me nice and slow under the stars, a hand on my heart and the other in my hair. When we’re with our friends and our eyes meet, a smile pulling at his lips the second he sees me.
It’s more powerful in the mundane moments, though. That swell turns into a tsunami. A tidal wave of affection and adoration for the man who loves me wholly. Completely. With flaws and faults and beyond.
I feel it when he makes me coffee in the morning and sets out a fresh mug. When he does the crossword puzzle in bed, the cap of his pen in his mouth and his eyebrows wrinkled. Right now, as I listen to him mumble about algorithms and SEOs and a folder he can’t find.
My chest is tight.
My feet are off the ground.
I never think it’s possible to have any space left to love him more, but then another day happens, and I do.
“Enough with the showboating, sweetheart. Boasting doesn’t look good on you.”
“What’s with the rubber duck?” I ask, leaning against the counter and sipping my drink. “I thought we left all the pranks in our past.”
He laughs again, a deep rumble I feel behind my ribs. It expands and fills all the crevices I’ve long thought empty until I’m laughing too and missing the hell out of him. “It’s a scavenger hunt.”
“A scavenger hunt? For what?”
“I figured we needed a new tradition. Every time our teams play each other, there’s going to be a scavenger hunt involved.”
“This is my last season with the Thunderhawks,” I say. “Next season I’ll be an NBA girl with the reigning champions and the biggest market in the league. What are we going to do then?”
“We’ll figure something out. We always do. When are you getting to the stadium?” he asks.
“I’ll be there in an hour or so. I want to get some footage of the guys warming up and post it right before kickoff. You know fans love to see them having a good time before they need to get serious.”
“Call me when you get here. I want to see you before I head to the locker room.”
“Kind of sounds like you’re obsessed with me, Duncan.”
“Have been for a while now, Sinclair. Keep up.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I love you, Ave.”
My mouth splits into a wide grin. “I love you, too.”
“Drive safe. I’ll see you soon, pretty girl.”
We hang up, and I down the rest of my coffee. I throw on my polo and leggings, pairing them with high top sneakers and a white ribbon in my hair. I shove my laptop and second phone in my bag, adding a water bottle to the mix and a hat too.
Ninety minutes later, I’m parking at FedEx Field and jumping out of the car I bought last year. I wave hello to Bart, one of the security guards, and he tips an imaginary hat my way.
“Morning, Miss Avery,” he says. “What’s the prediction today?”
“Thunderhawks by fourteen.” I sling my bag over my shoulder and grin. “And you can tell my other half I said that.”
He laughs and swipes his keycard, giving me access to the tunnel. “If I see him, I’ll make sure to pass it along.”
With another wave, I head down the hall to the visitors’ media room. I stop to say hello to a couple of other Thunderhawks team members then set up my computer at one of the long tables next to our sideline reporter.
Just as I’m about to sit down, I notice another rubber duck in my chair. I laugh and pick it up, the word you written on the bottom. I take another picture and send it to Reid, adding a half dozen question marks to the message.
“Good morning,” Maven sings. She stands in the entryway of the room and throws a rubber duck my way. “I was told to give you this.”
“What the hell is going on?” I glance at the underside of the third one, frowning when I see the word me .
“I don’t know. Reid said I had to give it to you or face the consequences. I do not need him hacking into my laptop. There are way too many incriminating photos on there.”
“Where is he?”
“He and Dallas disappeared a while ago, and they wouldn’t tell me where they were going. I love that the boys still have secrets.”
“You want to head to the field for a bit?”
“Sure.” She smiles and hugs me when I get close to her. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Because the NFL and NHL schedules are a pain in my ass.” I squeeze her tight. “Are you free for dinner this week? Emmy and June too.”
“I’d love that.” Maven tugs on my elbow and leads me down the hall. “How is your last season in the NFL going?”
I smile at her question. “Good. I love working for the Thunderhawks, but it’s time for a change.”
Switching leagues is the best thing for my relationship with Reid, too. We’re putting space between our personal and professional lives. He got promoted to head of marketing with the Titans, and when I transition to the NBA, I’m not the one responsible for filming social media content. It also gives us more free time, which is exactly what we need.
“I’m so proud of you. And I’m so happy my friends are together,” she gushes, and I laugh.
“Feels like yesterday I was wishing an anvil would fall on his head. Now look at me: I love that man too much.”
“And he loves you back. I’ve never seen a man so down bad. I swear he’s like a little puppy dog with you.”
“I haven’t dated someone who’s been—what the hell?” I stop short of the field. There’s another duck sitting on the fifty-yard line, and I charge toward it, the word will scribbled on the bottom.
I call Reid, tapping my foot while the phone rings.
“Hey, Ave,” he says, out of breath. “What’s up, baby?”
“What is going on with these ducks? Seriously. I’m afraid to know where else you’re hiding them.”
“Which one did you find?”
“Will. I have you, me, will and a question mark. Oh, for fuck’s sake. You want to have a threesome, don’t you? You could’ve just asked.”
“You know I don’t like to share.”
“Who is Will?” I ask. “Do I know a Will? Are you signing a Will? Are we signing a Will?”
“Don’t know. Guess you’ll find out.”
The line goes dead, and I curse him out under my breath.
“He’s so obnoxious,” I say to Maven, but when I turn around, I’m totally alone. “Mae?”
I blink, then the scoreboard lights up. Reid’s face takes over the screen, and I stare at him, flabbergasted.
“Hey,” he says, talking to the camera and starting a livestream on the Titans account. “My name is Reid Duncan, and for the last twelve years, I’ve been the social media admin for the DC Titans. You might know me from the videos I post. The memes I create and the captions I spend hours coming up with so you all laugh. I’ve never shown my face before, but today felt like the day to change that.”
He pauses, and I walk closer to the screen.
“Almost five years ago, I got a notification that the Baltimore Thunderhawks’ official Instagram account followed the DC Titans’ account. In the moment, I didn’t think anything of it. I was out at dinner with some friends and ignored the alert. Which is funny, because that’s the day my life changed.” He smiles and holds up a phone. “That follow turned into a direct message. A short and curt message from someone running the Thunderhawks account telling me to ‘delete this’ when I posted a comment about the Titans being the only decent mid-Atlantic NFL team.”
I burst out laughing. He had to scroll through years of barbs and jabs and comments to find that message, and I wonder how long it took him to find.
“Thus began our feud. I wanted nothing more in life than to destroy the woman behind the account,” Reid says, and he laughs.
“But then a funny thing happened. I fell in love with her instead. Slowly. Accidentally. Deliberately, now that I think about it. With every message. With every like. With every comment. With every late-night conversation that felt a lot like fighting, I lost my mind for this woman. And she’s the total package. I’m talking smart. I’m talking knowledgeable about football. I’m talking smoking hot. I’m talking someone who likes to wear heels and Air Jordans and makes them both look good.”
I blush at his compliment and see the number of viewers watching steadily increasing. We’re well past the thousands and pushing five digits. The comment section is flooded with people chiming in, and the attention makes me squirm.
“I know what you’re all wondering: what the hell is this nerd doing talking about love on a football account? Because, as silly as it is, this account brought me the most important person in my life. It brought me my dream girl. The person I’ve waited a very long time for. I thought I had it before, but I realize this is what I was looking for.”
I wipe my eyes.
I wish he was here.
I wish I could see him and hold him and tell him how much I love him too.
“And now—you know what? Fuck it. I’ll be back.”
Reid stands and disappears. I frown when Maverick takes over the frame, a wide smile on his face and a shiny silver ring on his left hand.
That’s new.
“I’m Maverick,” he says, waving to the camera. “And I love romance novels. My buddies do too, and this is what we call the grand fucking gesture. If you’re—Dallas. What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know. Reid told us we had to follow him, and we’re already behind. Let’s go, Miller.”
“Shit.” Maverick picks up the phone, and I’m graced with a shot of his sneakers. “Avery, if you’re watching this, you’re supposed to go to the end zone. The one to the right. No. The left. Wait. Which is it?”
“This is why your job was to hold the phone, not give instructions.” Dallas’s face appears, and he looks irritated as hell. “The home end zone, Avery,” he says, and the screen goes blank.
“What the hell?” I jog across the turf, the grass still wet from the late-morning humidity. I cross the forty and the thirty. I get closer to the end zone, and that’s when I see another duck sitting on the uprights, right in the middle of the goal posts.
I shake the goal posts and nothing happens. I try kicking it, using the heel of my high-top sneaker to ram into the metal, and the duck finally falls. When I turn it over, I see a single word, and I stop breathing. I thought it might be leading to this point, but now I’m sure.
Marry .
“There’s no Will,” Reid says from behind me, and I turn around to face him. He’s on one knee, a velvet box in his hand and his eyes on me. “Only me. I hope that’s okay.”
“What—” I sniff and look down at him. “What are you doing?”
“Tying my shoe. What does it look like I’m doing, Sinclair?” he teases. “How much of that video did you hear?”
“All of it,” I whisper. “Every word.”
“Good. Then you’ll know I’m serious when I say the day you messaged me for the first time was the best day of my life. But then I met you at a bar, and that was the best day of my life. And again at a wedding. And again six months ago and again yesterday. Somehow, I keep having these best days of my life with you, Ave, and I know it’s because you’re it for me. You’re always going to be it for me, and I want to keep doing this life thing with you. I know you’re starting a new job. I know you have your eyes set on the next project that’s bigger than what you created in Baltimore, and I want you to know I’m going to follow you. Wherever it is, I’m going too. I love you with my whole heart, baby, and with every fiber of my being. Will you marry me?”
I’m in his arms before he can finish asking the question. He laughs and holds me to his chest, his heart beating as fast as mine.
“Is that a yes?” he asks into my hair.
“Of course it’s a yes.” I wipe my eyes and kiss his chin. “Did you really think I might say no?”
“You can be a wildcard sometimes. Thought you might have one last prank up your sleeve, and I want to be sure.”
“I’m saving the last prank. It’s going to be something really good, and you’re going to have to sleep with one eye open from now on,” I say.
“I’ll do it gladly.” He helps me to my feet and kisses me. “Fuck, I love you.”
“You told the internet that,” I say, admiring the diamond he slips on my finger. “The entire internet. You can never hide from it.”
“I’m going to have to deactivate the account for a while. I’m sure I’m going to get roasted online.”
“You’re used to that.” I pat his chest, and the ring sparkles in the sun. “I’ve been doing it to you for years.”
“Wow.” Reid lifts me off the ground and throws me over his shoulder. I laugh as he walks us to the locker room, and I see all our friends waiting in the tunnel. “You better watch your back, baby. The feud isn’t over just because I proposed. I only have a few months left to give you shit, and I have to make the most of it.”
“You know, Duncan, I don’t think I’m ever going to get sick of you giving me shit,” I say. I’m not sure I’ve ever smiled this hard. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this happy. “In fact, I think our best work is yet to come, and I can’t wait to kick your ass again. And again. And again.”
“That many agains? You’ll have to stick around for a while then, Ave.”
I look up at him over his shoulder, and he’s already looking at me. Pink cheeks, a grin that matches mine. A tiny hickey under his ear from where I kissed him too aggressively last night. The sun framing his face and a halo around his bright red hair.
Mine .
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” I tell him, and I’ve never meant something more in my life.